


Iron Heart

by LovelyLessie



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coping, Developing Relationship, Disability, F/M, Gen, Past Abuse, Permanent Injury, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLessie/pseuds/LovelyLessie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of his return from captivity and the fight with Obadiah Stane, Tony Stark finds himself grappling with the political and personal consequences of not only his identity as Iron Man, but also his injuries and his changed priorities for the company and himself. Everything that's happened since he was attacked means having to reassess virtually everything he knows, which would probably be easier if that didn't include himself. </p><p>Part of the Inclusive Marvel universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a fic that will explore the six months between the events of Iron Man and Iron Man 2, as they occur in the Inclusive universe. A setup fic regarding Tony's situation in the AU can be found at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1944345 .

“You know, you don’t have to do it this way,” Pepper says.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, leaning away from her as she tries to fix the handkerchief in his pocket. “Of course I don’t _have_ to - Pepper, it’s _fine,_ leave it be - but I handled that fight on backup power, I think I can manage this.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” she says patiently. “I know you can. But you don’t need to.”

“What,” he says, “you think I shouldn’t? I’ll be fine, Pep, really, I’d rather -“

“Okay,” she says, heading him off. “If you want to, go ahead.” She fixes his tie and gives him a soft smile, and - hell, he thinks, he’s fucked, isn’t he? 

“You know,” he says, “that night, when I said we should dance.”

“Uh-huh,” she agrees, smoothing out his collar, tugging down the ends of his jacket. 

“After this,” he goes on, “you think, maybe, we could - I mean, I know this is all supposed to be a big secret - otherwise I could give this speech in the damn suit. But you know about it already. I could dance with you, in the suit. What do you think?”

“I think,” she says slowly, “that you should go give your speech.”

“Right,” he says, glancing down at the cards he’s holding between his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” she asks.

“That…” he begins, and swallows. Nods. “Will be all, Ms. Potts.”

She rests her hand, briefly, on his shoulder. Two seconds. Maybe three. It feels like forever and he thinks, he would much rather stay here than go out on stage in front of all those reporters. He thinks if she wasn’t standing here he might change his mind.

Instead, when she steps away, he limps past her into the conference room.

The way the reporters are staring at him, you’d think they’d never seen a guy on crutches before, and he can’t make out anything they’re saying but he’s sharply aware of the murmur in the back of the crowd. 

“Mr Stark has prepared a statement,” Rhodey says from behind the podium, silencing them. “He will _not_ be taking any questions.”

“Thank you,” Tony tells him, and slides behind the podium in Rhodey’s place. His arms are shaking from the effort of holding himself up, but like hell he’s going to give in now. “Been a while since I was in front of you,” he says, hoping the strain doesn’t show in his voice. “I figure I’ll stick to the cards this time.”

Silence, as he shifts his weight awkwardly so he can set the cards on the podium. The crutches might give off the valuable illusion that he’s in better shape, physically, than he is, but it’s a trick to maneuver around them.

“There’s been some speculation,” he begins, reading off the notecards, “that I was involved in the events that occurred…”

New card. He leans against the podium with one hand so he can rearrange them with the other and not lose his balance. Why the hell Coulson couldn’t have arranged for a teleprompter, or for these cues to be on his phone, or anything else in the world more convenient than this, he can’t imagine. 

“On the freeway, and the rooftop,” he continues.

He can’t continue, because a reporter - the blonde - Everhardt, that’s her name - interrupts him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” she says loudly, “but do you honestly expect us to believe that that was a bodyguard in a suit, that _conveniently_ appeared - “

“Well, yes - “

“Despite the fact that you historically _hate_ bodyguards - “

“I know it’s confusing,” he says, raising his voice to talk over her. “It’s one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make - wild accusations - or insinuate I’m a superhero - “

Everhardt’s smile is plastic. “I never said you were a superhero,” she corrects him.

“Good,” he says, “because that would be…outlandish and fantastic.” He swallows. “I mean, aside from the fact that I’m _clearly_ injured, as you can _all_ observe - I’m also just not the hero type. Clearly.”

He has never, ever, in his entire life, felt more uneasy in front of a crowd of reporters. And he has spent a lot of time in front of crowds of reporters. He’s been doing this for, like, twenty years. It’s not the lie; he’s a pro at lying through his teeth to the press. It’s something else, something he can’t put a name on.

They’re still waiting for him to speak. “I mean,” he continues, “what with the - laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I’ve made - mostly public - “

“Stick to the cards,” Rhodey says in his ear. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, “okay, yeah.” Deep breath, try it again. He scans the crowd briefly and ducks his head to read from the cards again. “The truth is - “

Another pause while he shuffles the cards around. Damn crutches. _I have been away while recovering from my injuries,_ it says, _and from the stress of my time in…_

Instead, he looks up at the reporters, the cameras, the journalists with their notebooks. He meets Everhardt’s eyes for half a second, and he decides, to hell with it. 

“I am Iron Man,” he says, and there are a solid five seconds of dead silence before the room dissolves into chaos.

 

* * *

 

“That was very clearly not a disaster,” he tells Pepper afterwards.

She looks like she’s about to slap him, or strangle him, and he wonders how willing she would be to actually chase down a man in a wheelchair. “Actually,” she says, “that was pretty much the definition of a disaster.”

“It was,” he says, and considers. “An event.”

“You are a PR nightmare,” she says. “Which, before you feel the need to remind me, I know is my job to handle. But I think it’s - really not necessary to make my job - even more _difficult -_ Tony, are you listening to me?”

“Hey, look, I’m trending on Twitter,” he says. “That was fast.”

“ _Tony!”_

He looks up from his phone. “What?” he asks, and then registers the expression on her face and feels immediately guilty. She looks like she might cry. “Pepper, hey, look, I’m sorry - I’ll help deal with it, seriously, I will. You know, actually, I think you - you need a vacation. Two weeks, how does that sound? Paid vacation.”

“Tony,” she says.

“I’ll even give you vacation benefits,” he says. “You want to go to California, or, uh, Hawai’i, or - Paris! Two weeks in Paris, fully covered.”

“Tony - “

“And you won’t have to do the smallest bit of work for me,” he says. “Or for anyone. All about you. Let someone else handle all of this.”

“ _Tony.”_  

“Okay,” he says, “so you don’t want a vacation? That’s, uh, that’s fine, too. Obviously. I’m just trying to make things easier for you, since you seem pretty stressed out about the whole thing.”

“I’m not stressed out,” she says. “I’m - _frustrated -_ with you, because you don’t think anything through, ever, and because this statement was already going to make a lot of extra work for me - “

“Which I just said you don’t have to - “

She ignores him entirely. “And because you just, um - told the world about your - secret identity -“

She breaks off and takes a deep, shaky breath, her eyes closed, her face working as she tries to compose herself. She pushes her hair back from her face with both hands and sighs.

“Which,” she says, “I thought only your - imaginary - fantasy girlfriend knew about. And which people are going to be asking a _lot_ of questions about, which I’m going to have to field. And because you’re - reckless, and - self-destructive, and - and you don’t have any regard for the consequences of your actions. Or words.”

“Uh, not true,” he says. 

“And,” she says, continuing to _totally disregard_ anything he’s saying, “I’m going to have to liason with _so_ many people about it, including Agent Coulson from SHIELD, and I _won’t_ take a vacation, Tony, because I’ve worked for you and with you long enough to know better than to trust you or anyone else at this company to do it right!”

He waits, but she doesn’t say anything else. “Are you finished?” he asks after a moment. “Can I talk now?”

She doesn’t answer, so he figures she’s done.

“First of all,” he says, “I _do_ have _some_ regard for the, uh, consequences of whatever. And I’m _not_ self-destructive, I resent that actually.” 

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, really.”

“Uh, yes,” he replies. “With the exception of the reactor thing - “

“That’s a pretty big exception!”

He rolls his eyes. “I know, okay? But aside from that my track record has been pretty good lately.” She’s still glaring at him. “It’s been _better,_ ” he says. “Come on, at least give me that much credit.”

“Right,” she says dryly. “Except for the part where you almost died.”

“Once!” he protests. “And someone was trying to _kill_ me, which isn’t my fault!”

“Tony,” she says, throwing out her hands. “You’re _completely_ missing the point.”

“Point,” he says. “What point? The point that I’m a disaster?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

He looks up at her and meets her gaze. “Okay,” he says. “You’re frustrated. I get that, I’m sorry. But here’s the thing, Pepper, I made something incredible, and I’m _helping_ people with it, and I think - I think I deserve some credit!”

She sighs very heavily and presses the tips of her fingers against her temples, closing her eyes. “Tony,” she says. He tries to remember if he’s ever known anyone else who could communicate the kind of nuance she does in his name alone, and decides he hasn’t. He would remember that, probably. Maybe. 

“Yeah?” he says, when he realizes she’s actually waiting for a response.

“I’m going to go to the office,” she says in a very calm voice, without opening her eyes. “I have a _lot_ of work to do, and I’m sure I have about a _hundred_ emails asking questions and requesting meetings, so I’m going to start doing damage control before anything gets out of hand.”

“That sounds great,” he says. “You do that.”

“ _You,”_ she adds, finally looking at him against, “should go home and get some rest. And Tony - please, don’t talk to any reporters between here and the car.”

 

* * *

 

The door opens and he comes out of the elevator to a dark house. Pepper hasn’t been back, it looks like; everything is still and silent. “JARVIS, hey,” he says as the door closes behind him.

“Welcome home, sir,” JARVIS replies. The lights come on low, leaving the room half-lit.

“I am Iron Man,” says a slow, level voice, and Tony turns to see a man in a long coat step out of the darkness.

“Uh,” he says.

“You think you’re the only superhero in the world?” asks the man, and raises an eyebrow.

Tony is still trying to figure out what this guy is doing in his house, and whether he should be acting like this is an emergency. Strangers with eyepatches showing up in your house is usually not ideal, he’s pretty sure, but JARVIS seems to be pretty okay with it.

“Mr. Stark,” the man says, “you’ve become part of a bigger universe.” He’s still coming closer with long, slow strides. “You just don’t know it yet.”

“Who the hell are you?” Tony asks, glaring up at him. 

“Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.”

SHIELD, Tony thinks, still lost, and then - Agent Coulson, of SHIELD, who wrote the speech he was supposed to deliver, that’s the connection, that’s where he knows that name from. So he’s…in trouble, probably. Right.

“I’m here to talk to you about the Avenger Initiative,” says Nick Fury.

Or maybe not. “Sorry,” Tony says, “the what?”

“The Avenger Initiative,” Fury repeats. “A project which we hope will bring together a group of people with particular talents, for the betterment of the universe.”

“Oh.” He blinks and shakes his head. “Nope, sorry, no can do.”

“Mr. Stark,” Fury says, his one eye narrowing as he looks sternly down at Tony.

If there’s one thing Tony Stark hates, it’s people looking sternly down at him. Pepper might get a pass, and maybe Rhodey on a good day. This guy? No way. 

“Sorry, pal,” he says. “I don’t do group work.”

Fury doesn’t laugh, or smile, or for that matter frown. He lifts his head a fraction of an inch. “SHIELD has been trying to get in touch with you,” he says in the same steady voice as before.

“Right,” Tony agrees. “You sent an agent after me.”

“Your comment at the press conference today presents a complication,” Fury says, and, wow, what is _up_ with people talking over him today? It’s like no one has paid attention to anything he’s said since the press conference. “If the world knows you are Iron Man,” Fury continues, “then they are going to expect you to be accountable.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Tony says. “That’s - that’s why I’m doing it, I’m taking accountability, what more do you want from me?”

“Mr. Stark, a lot of people are going to be wanting a lot of things from you,” Fury says. “I think it’s in your best interest - “

That’s it, Tony decides, he has _had_ it with people telling him what his best interest is, and with SHIELD, and with this entire day. “No,” he says, cutting Fury off midsentence. “Nope, it’s not happening. I’m _not interested,_ okay? And, uh, looking out for my best interest is, actually, the thing I do best as a matter of fact, and I’ve already got enough people to help me with it, so this conversation is over, as of - now. Right now.”

When Fury doesn’t move, he jerks his head towards the front door.

“Which means,” he says, more loudly, “it’s time for you to not be in my house. And! By the way!” He’s driving Fury towards the door, though the man doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by it. “If you want me to consider something, or anything, you’ll have to send it through my PR department - company policy, actually. And personal policy.”

“Believe me,” Fury says, “we’ll be in touch.”

“Fine,” Tony says. “Great. You get in touch. With my assistant, not me. Let’s go.”

“I’m going,” says Nick Fury, and with a final stern look he turns around and strides out of the house.

Tony watches until the door closes behind him, and then says, “JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir,” the computer responds meekly. 

“I want you to tighten home security,” Tony says. “Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy have security clearance along with myself, I don’t want anyone else in here except my personal guests, can you do that?”

“I…will do my best, sir,” JARVIS assures him, though that isn’t very reassuring. Tony promises himself he’ll take a look at the security codes himself in the morning, and figure out how Fury got in to begin with.

As for now, well - he’s had one _hell_ of a day, after all. And one hell of a week. And…well. He deserves some rest. A lot of rest, actually, for the next month or so. For that matter, maybe he could use a vacation.

He’ll think about it in the morning, he decides, and with that thought shoved away to the back of his mind he heads off to get ready for bed.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Pepper Potts is - an angel, honestly. Absolutely. He doesn’t know what he would do without her.

Well, actually, he’s pretty sure without her he would go to pieces, but that’s beside the point.

The _point_ is, her fretting and fussing notwithstanding, she handles it - all of it - beautifully, with the same poise and grace she has handling everything. Before he’s even awake the next morning, she releases an official statement, to say that in light of the events on the freeway he’s unavailable for question or comment until further notice, and that Stark Industries will be making an announcement next week regarding its future.

“You,” he tells her on the phone, “are doing a phenomenal job. Really, better than anyone could possibly expect. And you’re getting a pay raise.”

“You flatter me,” she says dryly. “There are about twenty people who want to schedule interviews with you, and - “

“I thought you handled that,” he says. “Aren’t I recovering from the trauma of my lifelong business partner turning against me, or something?”

She sighs heavily. “Something like that, yes,” she agrees. “I just wanted to ask - “

“When I’ll be available? Never. No more comments.” He taps the screen of his tablet to bring up a hologram of the suit plans. “Though I will deliver the Stark Industries statement, if you want.”

“Wanted to ask if you have any idea which _outlet_ is going to get to run the story,” Pepper says. 

“What story?” he asks, and selects the boots, expanding the image to examine them.

“Well,” she says slowly. “I think most people are hoping to hear more about Iron Man. That _is_ the general media attention you have right now.”

“Uh-huh.” He turns the image with one hand. “What do you think of roller skates?”

“Tony…”

“No,” he says, “not practical. Maybe in a later model - “

“ _Tony.”_

“Right. Iron Man.” He toys with the angle of the soles, slanting them up and down, trying to determine what’s the most effective. “How about this, you keep track of what kind of coverage everyone’s offering, show me at the end of the week, I’ll decide then.”

“I - “ Pepper begins, and then sighs. “Okay, I…will do that.”

“Good,” he says. “Great. You know, I was thinking, sooner or later I’d have to do an interview about my injury, but now, I think - why don’t I just wear it all the time?”

“What?”

“The suit,” he says, and zooms out to look at the full projection of it. “Everyone knows I’m Iron Man, right? Why not wear the suit all the time. Solve the problem just like that.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Pepper says, “No.”

“What? Why not?” he presses, collapsing the hologram so he can turn his full attention to glaring at his phone. 

“Because that’s ridiculous,” she says firmly, “and because the thought of you trying to be Iron Man all the time sounds like a disaster, and because I would never be able to keep up with that kind of media attention. You would need - three of me, probably.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he says. “Can you find two more of you?”

“Oh my _God,”_ she says. “I’m getting back to work.”

“Hey, wait,” he protests.

“ _Goodbye,_ Mr. Stark,” she says, and hangs up. 

-

He is serious, about wearing the suit all the time. Okay, seventy-five percent serious. Maybe eighty percent. He’s mostly serious. 

And it’s _not_ about being Iron Man all the time, which is what Pepper seems to think. Rhodey thinks so, too, when he mentions it, but they’re wrong, and frankly he’s a little insulted by both of his best friends making that kind of baseless accusation. It’s about _image,_ obviously. Presenting himself in the best possible light, and all that. Which isn’t fumbling around on stupid crutches, that’s for sure.

No, the suit is definitely much better. Not only is it a feat of engineering and design, but it gives a good impression. Strong, powerful, in charge. The kind of guy who won’t be pushed around, literally or metaphorically. 

Maybe, though, it’s a little much for day to day use. He frowns at the display in front of him showing off the suit and clears it away with a wave of his hand. 

Start over, from the base design. Take away the outer chestpiece, the abdominal plating, the shoulders and upper arms. Pare down the gauntlets, too, figure out the minimum needed for stable flight. Take off the upper back and the side plating but leave some support in the lumbar spine, and it’s a good starting place for lower body mobility assistance.

Yeah, people will ask questions, if he goes through with it. Eventually he’ll have to explain. But to hell with it - if it’ll make things more convenient and life a little simpler, why not? 

“Alright,” he says, and switches to a display of the internal hardware. “Let’s get to work.”

-

“We are _not_ holding a bidding war to decide who gets to write the story on Iron Man,” Pepper tells him. 

“What?” he says, staring at her over his coffee. “You don’t think the story deserves the best _possible_ treatment —“

“I think you wouldn’t be satisfied except by an entire magazine written entirely about you,” she says without looking up from her tablet. “I’m sending you the estimates I’ve gotten on article size and content; get back to me _today,_ Tony, I need to know who I can schedule for an interview.”

“You can’t schedule anyone,” he says. “I’m indisposed indefinitely, remember?”

“Right,” she agrees, raising her eyebrows. “Well, you let me know as soon as you get bored of that, okay? Also, I would really, _really_ love it if you could at least _outline_ what you’re planning to say for the company announcement.”

“Me?” he asks. “Why do I have to do it? You do it, isn’t that your job - “

“You’re the one who’s going to determine the new direction you’re taking Stark Industries,” she says. “I can’t do that _for_ you, Mr. Stark, you need to at least tell me what we’re announcing.”

“I’ll make a decision,” he says vaguely, and waves her away. “Don’t worry about it.”

-

He’s already made the only important decision about the company; they won’t be making more weapons, period, no more questions asked. He said that weeks ago, and none of the rest seems to matter all that much, but Pepper insists, so he has to make some kind of plan for what they _are_ going to do.

He still hasn’t come up with one by the time he’s getting ready to make the announcement about the new direction for the company.

“We’re keeping all the reporters out of the building, right?” he asks when he arrives through the back entrance. 

“Yes,” Pepper says. “No one is coming in until you’re ready to speak.”

“You need me to scare off those guys by the doors, Boss?” Happy asks as he jogs through the doors behind him. “You don’t want them in here, right?”

“As long as they’re outside, it’s fine,” Tony says. “They can press their noses to the glass for all I care, just keep them on the other side of it.” He leans away as Happy makes to grab the back of the chair. “Hands off, Hogan, go do your job.”

“You sure you don’t need a hand?” Happy asks.

“Yes!” he snaps, pushing himself back to stay out of reach. “Come on, I thought you were going to go scare off reporters. Go do that.”

“Alright, whatever you say.”

“Mr. Stark,” Pepper says as he retreats, “you have fifteen minutes until you’re supposed to be live.”

“I know,” he says, waving her away before moving towards the elevator. She follows three steps behind, her heels clicking on the floor, and steps through the doors after him.

“Have you considered what you’re going to say?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

“Yeah,” he lies through his teeth, looking up at her. “Sure. Uh, movement towards - mainstream commercial technology - getting my personal designs ready for mass production and widespread distribution.”

A dry smile twists the corner of her mouth. “Did you practice that this morning, or just in the car on the way here?”

“Um,” he says, unable to find an appropriate answer to that. Instead he contemplates what the first steps in the plan he just outlined will be. Commercial redesigns of a few key pieces of Stark tech, probably, and then factory rehaul. No, wait, factory rehaul first - he needs to design a more effective large-scale reactor, upsize the newest model to power the factory, because it’s backup power only at the moment. 

“Well,” she says, “as long as you can turn that into a message for the press.”

He laughs and pushes himself out of the elevator, down the hall to his office, Pepper still following him. “Sure,” he says, glancing back to grin at her. “Come on, Pepper, I know what I’m doing, I can handle this.”

“Uh-huh,” she agrees, and rolls her eyes, closing the office door behind her. “Is there anything you need from me?”

“Mm,” he mutters, yanking the desk chair back so he can hoist himself into it. Pepper doesn’t move from her spot by the door, and he makes a mental note that he should probably buy her chocolate, or flowers, or something. “If you could just,” he says when he’s successfully seated behind his desk, and gestures at the wheelchair. “Put it…somewhere else.”

She sets her clipboard down on the edge of his desk so she can use both hands to wheel the chair out of his office, and disappears around the edge of the door. He runs his fingers through his hair and smooths out his shirt and jacket, glad to have his hands free so he can tidy himself up without her help. 

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” she asks as she slips through the door again. 

He straightens his tie and lifts his head. “That will be all, Ms. Potts,” he agrees, and gives her a brief smile. “Time?”

“Seven minutes,” she says. “I’ll bring in our cameraman and then invite the others up.”

“Great,” he tells her. “I’ll…be here. Waiting.”

She nods and grabs her clipboard again before leaving his office and shutting the door with a _click._

-

The announcement broadcasts live on two television channels and a streaming video on the company site, and the recording goes up on the site permanently fifteen minutes later. It’s not as bad as it could have been, definitely. In fact all things considered it goes pretty well.

“Several weeks ago,” he says to the camera, “I made the announcement during a press conference that Stark Industries will be taking a new direction in the coming years. And I am happy to assure everyone that, despite recent events involving the company, what I said then still holds true.”

He’s sitting in the garage, watching the recording while he works, a glass of whiskey in his hand and half a sandwich on the workbench beside his elbow.

“There are big changes coming for Stark Industries,” his voice continues from the television. “Our first move is a total redesign of our main factory. In light of the recent, uh…incident, at the building, we’re taking the need for reconstruction as an opportunity to implement new technology and new machinery, and to start out a new era at the company.”

He pulls up the new model arc reactor design from his tablet. It’s efficient, much more efficient than the old reactor, but scaling it up to that size will still require some design tweaks. He blows up the image so he can see the inside and frowns at it, tongue between his teeth.

“As for what comes next for us in terms of production, we’re planning to start developing more accessible, affordable technology for commercial consumption,” he’s explaining onscreen. “We’ve already got projects lined up, and we’ll be unveiling designs in the coming weeks for tech coming to the market for the first time…”

“Tony,” Pepper’s voice calls, and he hears her steps on the stairs.

“Jarvis, put that on hold,” he says, and the recording freezes. 

“Tony,” she calls again as she punches in the door code. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, dear,” he agrees, still focused on the hologram. 

She carefully crosses the garage to stand on the other side of the workbench, opposite him. “You owe me an email,” she says.

“I owe you flowers,” he says, looking up. “You know what, actually, just buy yourself some flowers from me, use my card, it’s a gift. Put them in your office, brighten it up. Or, I mean, at home, whatever you want, they’re all yours - “

“Email,” she says firmly, cutting him off. “About the magazines. Remember?”

“Magazines,” he echoes, frowning. “Oh, right, the - right. Hang on.”

He collapses the projection so he can open up the email she sent, about which magazines were offering what coverage. 

“Give it to Newsweek,” he says after glancing over the numbers, “ _if_ they’re willing to do an equal-size science article next month on our new tech.”

She sighs and makes a note on her phone. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says. “Also, the _Times_ is hoping to get a statement about the fight on the freeway. What would you like me to tell them?”

He pulls up the reactor design again to get back to work. “For a news article?” 

“A followup to the news coverage.”

“What do you think?” he asks, expanding the model further so he can work out his thoughts in three dimensions.

A beat. “Um,” she says, very slowly. “I think it…would be advisable for you to give a statement, yes.”

He frowns, pulling up the virtual toolbox so he can swap out parts in the design. “When are they running the article?”

“As soon as possible, I think.”

“I’ll do it,” he decides. “But I don’t want the whole interview thing. Have them go through you. Tomorrow morning.”

“I - “ Pepper begins, but apparently changes her mind about whatever she meant to say, because she doesn’t finish. “I’ll arrange something. Will that be all?”

“Yep,” he agrees.

She turns and walks away, her heels clicking on the cement floor.

“Hey, wait,” he says, as the door is closing behind her. “Hold on.”

He looks up to see her turn back to face him, her hair spilling over her shoulder. “Yes, Mr. Stark?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I want you to schedule a press conference,” he says. “Make sure it’s after the Newsweek article runs. At least a week after, maybe two. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course,” she says, though there’s a frown creasing her face. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” he says, and he’s sure this time. “No, that will be all.”

 


End file.
